New Place
by Jacob Matthew
Summary: One desires to be the strongest man in the world. The other's just trying to win unlimited beer. Can the two coexist to form the best Pirate Crew to sail the Grand Line?
1. The Beginning

This is actually a reboot of a very old story I used to write a couple of years ago. I probably won't update this that often, but I like writing so I wanted to post it. I skimmed through for a proofread but if you see any typos, go ahead and tell me, thanks.

* * *

Breath in. Breath out. The ocean's waves crash against Stephen's ship. Breath in. The wind brushed through the top of his short, wavy, black hair. The sun shined down on the deck of his small ship. A one-man vessel, capable of traveling to a few islands but not much more. At least, that's what his master said. The old wood of the ship bent underneath him as he breathed out.

The memory of a nine millimeter pistol appeared in his mind. How it felt to hold its grip. The recoil that came with each shot. The power he felt when he pulled the trigger. That image left his mind, traveling from the back of his head, down the throat, like a clump of unchewed food accidentally swallowed. Instead of going down to his stomach, it went to his right shoulder. There was a characteristic dark blue glow emitting from that spot now, as the memory continued further down, lighting up veins with the same blue glow. Breathe in. The glow works its way to his palm before slowly rising through the skin. Mechanical parts begin to form in the air from nowhere. Until finally, the nine millimeter was physically there, his hand holding it's grip. Breathe out.

In all, he crafted one perfectly in seven seconds. He could probably manage the pistol in five seconds, in a pinch. Something less intricate would, of course, take even less time. And he was getting faster with it everyday. He felt along its side, feeling the fine details carved into it. He looked down the sight. His hand was steady, extensive training with his master made it so. Slowly, he transferred what he called the weapon's "DNA" back into his body, watching the mechanical parts slowly disappear. He stretched out his hand a little bit as the memory returned to its source. What felt like a tight pinch now had been agony as he learned under Master. Physically painful, and mentally exhausting. And always dangerous to deal with memories. Summon a weapon too complicated and another memory could come with it. Stephen could bring the weapon back in, but he had no control over less tangible memories. It was a strange feeling knowing he had lost a memory but having no recollection to what it was. And no way of getting it back.

Stephen stood up, going to his basket for food. Inside were...sandwiches. Stephen squeezed the bridge of his nose, his eyes twitching. Stephen knew Master couldn't cook, but he was still hoping for something a little less basic than sandwiches. Regardless, he took a sandwich and bit into it.

Stephen had not eaten a lot of sandwiches in his life, but he was quite certain this had been the worst.

* * *

"Wakey-wakey eggs and bakey!" Sheamus screamed as he woke up in a bed far too small for his ten-foot stature. He sat up, stretched out his burly, hairy arms and accidentally punched a hole in the roof of his quarters. Marines looked down into the hole with shock, looking down at the gigantic entity who had commandeered their ship yesterday from their former captain Persius. Never had marines cheered as much when an adversary had won as they did then.

Sheamus had accidentally stumbled upon their ship with his raft while he was out searching for New Place. The marine ship took him aboard, but not for humane purposes. As Sheamus had climbed aboard, Persius aimed his pistol at Sheamus, demanding all his valuables. Sheamus, nursing a hangover from the week of drinking and celebrating with friends, took Persius's pistol and bent it in half towards the marine captain. Then Sheamus brandished his axe, which was almost as big as the gigantic man himself, threateningly. Persius seemed to shrink into his boots before Sheamus picked him up by the shirt with his large, bear-like hands and threw him into the ocean.

"Anyone else?" He had challenged. None had stood up to his challenge, actually making him more ill-tempered. "C'mon ya wee little babies! I promise not to hurt ya that bad! Bones heal after time, ya know?"

Still, no one warmed up to it, even with Sheamus's reassuring words. It seemed no one wanted to deal with a ten-foot drunk with a nine-foot axe. The marines dropped their guns. One of them raised his hand.

"Did you just throw Captain Persius into the ocean?"

"Aye! I did! And I'm about to throw yer entire ship into the ocean, upside down, if ya white-and-blue wearing sissies don't get me a drink?" His shouts ended confused, as the marines cheered.

"Well, that oughta be a good drink if we're off an' celebratin' alretty!" Sheamus yelled, joining in on the cheers. One of the marines went to him.

"We're not cheering that! We're cheering that we don't have to deal with Persius anymore!" The marine said, still cheering.

"Well, pass the drinks around!" Sheamus called out, raising his fist in victory.

"Actually, we don't have any alcohol on board!"

Sheamus couldn't remember much of that day after that. Except blind, incredible rage.

"All was well though!" Sheamus said to himself. It turned out that, though Persius was far smaller than the savage beast himself, he had much the same opinion about pure, Valhallan beer, having a secret stash kept inside his quarters. Valhalla was his home, and a wonderful place it was, at least to those born with a fighter's heart and a drinker's liver. In fact, the island was known for three things: its famous drinks, renowned around the world for their taste, its fighters, envied across the world for their skill and being the birthplace of one of the Yonkou, one of the most feared pirates in the world, "Red Menace" Donnon.

Yes, that was his home and he was proud of it. Sheamus McKinnsley loved the brawls, and the drinking contests, and he knew he was the best on his island at both. No one's broadsword could match his and Sheila's ability. He caressed his axe lovingly. Oh yes, Sheila was an axe, of course. That didn't make their love any less true. And it's why he took "The Bet" in the first place.

"The Bet". Sheamus would never have left his island, had it not been for the bet. Sheamus was happy where he was, enjoying life with friends and family! But one day, he been talking to his old friend, Seamus. Valhallans are not the most creative with names.

So Sheamus and Seamus were both drunk, as they usually were. Their hands were clasped together, the muscles in their arms tensing up as they tried to the bring the others' to the ground. It was a good, old-fashioned arm-wrestling match. With a final heave and a shout, Sheamus smashed Seamus's hand into the table, breaking it in half. The two big men laughed, bending over with their hands on their knees. They had been childhood friends, had known each other since they could first lift mugs, which was at a tender young age on Valhalla. The two were much like each other, except in two key ways. Sheamus was the better fighter, in fact, he was top on the island. He had never lost. Seamus, however, was a true wordsmith. He could sell fire to the devil. He was always the best at telling stories and jokes that could make a crowd holler with laughter. And he could always bait Sheamus into a trap.

There was a code for the McKinnsley family. "Never go back on a bet." Once it was accepted, it needed to be completed. If there was ever anyone who knew this, it was his friend Seamus. And no one was more willing to accept a bet quickly than Sheamus.

"McKinnsley, five dollops if you eat that alligator live and whole! And ten dollops for the crocodile!"

Seamus looked over to Sheamus with his one eye, after losing the other in a goodnatured bar brawl a long while ago. He said through gulps of Valhallan beer, "Sheamus, have I ever told you about the New Place?"

Sheamus dropped his empty mug, and wiped away the remnants of the drink from his bearded face. His already large stomach extended over the belt that kept his kilt up.

"Ha! Another story then, Seamus?" he asked, very drunk but very happy.

"Oh, Sheamus, this is no story. It is neither a tall tale nor some amusing legend. Aye, it's very much the truth." Seamus said, now dropping his voice to a lower volume. Seamus had ideas rolling around in his head.

"Oh really?" Sheamus asked skeptically. He dropped his voice to a lower volume too, "Why don't ya just TELL ME THEN?"

Seamus rocked back, surprised by Sheamus suddenly screaming in his ear. "My friend, I will soon! But all stories need buildup. Why would I keep that from you? Stay quiet, drink a beer, and just enjoy the story." Sheamus shut his lips, and leaned back in his chair. He knew his friend was right. And he could see that the beautiful, redhaired barmaid was coming his way with a drink. He could just blackout through the beginning if need be.

"Sheamus, pay attention." Damn. "It starts with pirates, as many stories do. At first, there was One Piece, named so after Gold Roger, the First Pirate King, said that he left his treasure all in one piece. Get it? Anyway, when Roger finally called it quits, they had him up high on a podium, at least a hundred feet in the air! He could be seen from every point in the city! The marines were showing off their prize, you see?"

Sheamus could barely see straight, let alone the significance of such an act. "However, Gold Roger had other plans. Roger wanted to see another pirate era, and knew of one way to do it. Treasure is an amazing persuader. Roger knew that the temptation of riches beyond all peoples' imaginations would start that era. He called out in a loud voice, telling the people that he left all of his treasure in, as he said it, One Piece."

Sheamus stirred, "I don't see what this has to do wit' anything."

"It's because you're an impatient lout, Sheamus! Let me continue in peace," Seamus commanded the ten-foot brute. "Then…they cut off his head!"

"That's more like it!"

"Yes, I thought you would enjoy that part," Seamus muttered, rubbing his big hand across his forehead. "Anyway, that was the beginning of a new Pirate Era, one of adventure and fortune -wake up, Sheamus, damnit, it can't all be beheadings-and fame!"

Seamus took a sip of his beer and continued, "Many pirates would search for One Piece, strong and weak, old and young, good and bad. Trafalgar Law, Kidd, Atlas, brave and sometimes cruel men and women with nothing to lose and everything to gain. The closest to Raftel one would get, the stronger and more dangerous the enemies. Something you would like, I assume."

"Ya know me so well, friend!" Sheamus grinned, carressing the handle of his axe "But what has that to do with anythin'?"

Seamus leaned forward, "I'll get to that later, the tale is not over yet."

Sheamus groaned, growing restless. Most of Seamus's stories were more interesting than this, they included some action, warriors fighting warriors! None of this silly history. Why was Seamus wasting his time?

"One of the most persistent pirates was "Straw Hat" Monkey D Luffy. Along with his crew, the Straw Hat Pirates, he found Gold Rogers' One Piece! After countless battles among many dangerous enemies, Monkey D Luffy had succeeded where many failed. But that was not where his story ended," Seamus continued his story.

"Luffy may have found One Piece, but that meant having a target painted across his back. A target that a man known as Mr. Atlas was trying to hit."

"So, Atlas challenged Straw Hat to a duel on Raftel, a fight for the crown so to speak. One on one, both men's crews restricted to watching with the rest of the world. And Atlas won. For anything Straw Hat would throw at Atlas, Atlas had the answer to. Like a king fighting a god! It was quite the destructive battle, it's been said, a fight that destroyed the entire island that One Piece had been located."

"Atlas had cameras set up so the entire world could watch the defeat of the Pirate King. But Monkey D Luffy was the one with the last laugh. Before Atlas could kill him with a final strike, Straw Hat announced:

"'You want One Piece? You can have it, if you can find it! Because I've stashed it in a New Place!' he said with a smile right before Atlas pierced through his heart with just a punch!"

"Well," Sheamus interrupted, "How was that gettin' the last laugh? He died!"

"Let me finish, Sheamus," Seamus calmed him, "It was the last laugh because, through Atlas's own machinations, Luffy had broadcasted the inspiration for the newest Pirate Age! People needed a reason to be pirates again after One Piece was found, and Luffy saw that. With New Place out there, people lost their heads trying to prepare to sail out to sea again. It's been fifteen years, and still no one has found it. Including Atlas himself, who I don't need to tell you, was quite pissed by being tricked by Straw Hat.

"Atlas went on a rampage, going so far to kill his own crew, his friends. He began to call himself The Pirate God and promised to kill any upstart pirate that tried to steal, "His rightful treasure." As for the Straw Hat pirates, no one ever saw them again after their captain was killed. Some say they went their separate ways. Others say they still travel the sea."

"Alright then, where's this all goin'?" Sheamus asked impatiently.

"Sheamus, the New Place is still out there. And I think you're the man who can find it!" Seamus said in a low, excited whisper.

"What? Bah, the sea ain't my home, Seamus! Valhalla is where I'm happy at!" Sheamus protested.

"Sheamus, you're the best fighter on the island. You and Sheila," Seamus gestured towards his friend's axe, "And I think it's time you find new challengers. There are stronger people than you out there, don't you want to fight them? And be the best fighter in the world?"

Sheamus's jaw tensed up as he thought about what Seamus said. He was the best fighter on the island, but shouldn't he want to be the best fighter in the world?

"And Sheamus, how about a bet over it?"

Sheamus's ears perked up, almost like a dog, at the sound of a bet.

"If you find New Place, and bring back the treasure, I'll buy you all the Valhallan beer you can drink for the rest of your goddamn life, my friend!"

Sheamus's eyes formed into hearts at the very thought. All the beer he could drink? That'd be all the beer in the world! And his heart began to beat, thinking about all the exciting battles that lay before him if he traveled out to sea.

Sheamus looked to his best friend with an excited grin. He reached over with his large hands and shook the man's hands, accepting the bet!

"Aye, I'll do it!" Sheamus shouted, already anticipating drinking Seamus out of house and home!

Seamus cheered with him, raising his glass to toast his friend's decision, "To you, Sheamus! The new Pirate King!" and the crowd around them also began cheering, mostly because they were drunk and raucous and would cheer for anything if someone was loud enough.

Sheamus remembered fondly how they all partied for a week before he went on his way. It had been eight days since he had first taken "The Bet" and, at this point, Sheamus had become very confused about where to go. He was no seafaring man, in fact, in his first hour at sea, he had tipped over the raft he was using. Only by Valhallan luck had he managed to find the marine ship he currently resided in.

"Ah, the marines! They'll know where New Place is!" Sheamus shouted, raising his hand up, index finger pointed in the air. This action actually sent his hand straight through the ceiling, tearing another hole into the ship so that he could see the sun.

"Oh...well, if there's one, might as well be two!" Sheamus laughed, the few red hairs hanging off the sides and back of his head bouncing as he did. Sheamus traversed through the ship, it's area obviously too small for a man his stature, to get to the top of the deck.

Marines were hard at work, preparing to dock at a nearby island. Sheamus pointed at one such marine and asked, "Hey you, ya know where this New Place is!?"

The young marine froze up, staring in fear at the abrasive giant in front of him. "Uh, n-no sir!" He shouted before saluting Sheamus. Sheamus, in turn, stared at the marine puzzled for striking such a strange pose in front of him.

"Calm down, lad! The hell has gotcha worked up for?" Sheamus asked, watching the fidgety, young slowly breath in and out.

"Well, sir, we're going to be landing at that island very shortly," the young marine pointed at the small island in front of their ship. It was pointed at the top, a large castle laying on top of its summit as smaller towns were dotted along the coastline. "Stryker's Island, sir!"

"Ah, so is that New Place?" Sheamus asked, thinking about how easy his task ended up being.

"No, sir. Well, probably not at least. No one knows where New Place is, that's part of the problem of finding it. The marines can't even find it!"

Sheamus deflated, his dream of neverending beer fleeing. No one knew where it was? How the hell was he supposed to find?

"Honestly, sir, it's probably in the New World, where all the strongest people live!" the marine informed him politely.

"Well, how far is that?"

"Um, it's pretty far, sir."

"Goddamnit, Seamus, ya tricked me." Sheamus mumbled under his breathe.

"But, uh, sir, we're gonna have to drop you off at this island." the marine said timidly, sweat forming on the back of his neck. He didn't want to say anything that set off the monster in front of him,

"What? Why? What'd I do?" Sheamus asked loudly, stepping closer to the marine.

"Well, uh, you see, sir, you kinda threw our captain off board. We're marines, so that technically makes you a pirate. Especially if you're also looking for the New Place. We actually should be arresting you right now."

Sheamus growled, baring his teeth.

"But we won't! We promise!" The marine pleaded, "But we have to drop you off, for our own sakes!"

Sheamus backed off, thinking over his options. He was hoping he could just get a lift from the marines to New Place, and instead, he ended up becoming a criminal. He scratched at the back of his head, wondering what the hell happened to make things turn so sour on him. He supposed he could find something to do at this island.

Sheamus smiled at the young man, "Alright lad, ya win! Ya can kick me off at this island. Might as well see if this is New Place."

The young marine sighed, letting out a lot of air he didn't realize he was holding in. He needed a seat so he could relax.

* * *

As Sheamus and his marine pals docked at one end of the island, another man seeking his goals arrived at the other end. Stephen tied his small boat to the dock he stopped at, before surveying the location around him. It was hardly pretty.

"Jesus," Stephen thought, "This town is a shithole."

The houses were ran down, many of the windows covered up with boards. Stephen walked into the center of the ghosttown, and called out, "Hello! Is there anyone who can help me with supplies? Or give me information about this island?"

No one answered him, but that did not mean no one was there. Stephen could hear the rustling in the houses and the eyes roaming across his body, across his good looking clothes. He was wearing a three piece suit, everything a dark grey color. He had on black dress shoes. The people looking at him could see they would fetch for a good price, or at least they could trade it for food.

"Come out now, before I decide I won't be generous in how I get my information!" Stephen shouted, a dark blue glow rushing through his arm to form a sword in his hand.

Out of one house, an emaciated man burst through one of the doors, rushing at Stephen! He was screaming, his hands outstretched to rip Stephen apart, to get at any of his valuables or food.

Stephen sidestepped him, and then sliced through his legs with his sword. As the man fell forward, Stephen flipped the sword upside down and drove it through the man's chest. His blood sprayed up onto Stephen's suit and face.

More screams pierced through the air, three more people ran out of their once lovely homes. There was something wrong with these people, Stephen could see. They were barely human anymore. The three people attacked him, one woman and two men, and Stephen had to back off to dodge their wild attacks. They were unpredictable in their movements, and Stephen had to constantly jump backwards to avoid any chaotic claw at him.

One of the men reached at Stephen's face, his grey skinned hand appearing almost dead, his nails grown into sharp weapons. Stephen bent backwards to evade the man's arm, before chopping horizontally above him, cutting the man's arm off at the elbow. The one armed man feel back, clutching at his stump.

The woman came at Stephen from the left, so he delivered a sharp kick to her gut, sending her onto her back. He jumped forward and drove his sword into her brain, ending her struggle. He pulled the sword out in time just to turn around and stab through the third man's stomach. He then sliced upward, cutting the man in half vertically from the abdomen.

Stephen returned the sword to his mind as he watched the one armed man slowly pushed himself to his feet. Breath in, breath out. A nine millimeter pistol formed in his hand. He took aim as the man ran forwards and fired. The bullet entered right in the middle of his forehead before blowing his brains out the back. The man fell backwards, dead.

"Okay then! Would anyone else like some of this? Please, step up, form an orderly line!" Stephen screamed, gesturing with the gun.

He could sense the people out there backing off. They were like animals now, and their prey turned out to be too big of a challenge for them. Stephen slowly lowered his gun, before sheathing it in his mind. He gazed upward, towards the castle on the summit of the island.

"Bet there's something there," Stephen thought. He began the trek forward, leaving behind four dead bodies in a trail behind him. The "people" around him slowly followed him, their animalistic brains curious where this new alpha was going.


	2. Meeting Stryker

"Well, seems a bit dreary, don't it?" Sheamus asked his marine companion, who had earlier identified himself as Edward, or Ed for short. Sheamus looked around at the small island town around him. It was like the island had a grey tint all around it, a suffocating atmosphere of sadness. The townsfolk slowly moved through their tasks, Sheamus could see a mother placing dirty clothes onto an old clothesline. Another man was carrying planks of wood most likely to help keep himself warm at night. There were farmers trying to save whatever crops they still had.

"I agree, sir. It's strange, this town used to be a lot more vibrant," Ed answered him, checking out his surroundings as well. It was quite peculiar, the island used to be a solid source of food in the East Blue. And when the island was put under the command of Stryker, they had seemed to thrive.

"At least at first," Ed thought, looking at the depressed townspeople. The smell of the air reached Ed's nose and he retched. It smelled like a rotten animal carcass that had been left out for days. And the scent of smoke as well, from a fire.

"Something's wrong here," Ed said to Sheamus, his timid demeanor replaced with the kind of drive to serve that made him become a marine, "I can tell, we should lo-

"Oy, marine boys!" A voice shouted at the two men. Two men dressed up in chainmail walked up to Sheamus and Ed, stern looks on their faces.

"You ain't allowed on this island, marines,this here be private property," the guard on the right poked Ed against his chest forcefully.

Ed sneered, "Private property? We're the marines, what kind of restrictions stop me from searching this island? It's obvious to anyone's eyes something's messed up on this island!"

"The same ones that came from yer boss, boy!" the guard on the left spat, before pulling out papers from the satchel on his side. The guard shoved the papers into Ed's chest and laughed, showing off his black, rotted teeth.

Ed looked over the papers and his eyes widened in shock at who authorized , "The World Nobles? But why?"

"Don't matter why, kid, just means we control the island and the people, and you get to piss off!" the guard shouted in Ed's face, spit flying from his mouth onto the marine.

Ed's face burned up in anger and embarrassment. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his body shaking. He wanted more than anything to punch these two right in their faces, knock the few teeth out that hadn't already fled their mouth. But with the orders by the World Nobles, he was helpless.

"Well, lads, I got to tell ya somethin'" Sheamus leaned in close to the two guards, covering them in shade as if he was a tree. "I don't much like yer attitude to me friend."

"And what are you going to do, ya Valhallan bastard!" one guard called up to him. "Marines can't touch us!"

"Well, that's just the best part, boys," Sheamus leaned in close and whispered in their ears, "I ain't a marine."

The guards backed off a little, a shiver running down through their spine. Their legs were shaking slightly, but one said, "W-well, that don't matter, you still won't do anything! We got World Noble authorization!"

"Who the hell are the World Nobles?" Sheamus asked, before grabbing both of the guards heads and smashing them together, a crack resounding through the air as both men fell unconscious.

Ed stared on in shock! His mouth hung open, agape. First, Sheamus had thrown a marine captain overboard! And now, he's attacked two of an island's guards and basically disobeyed a Noble's orders!

"You really are a pirate!" Ed told him, looking up at the giant.

"...Aye, if bein' a pirate means I ain't takin' shit from jerks like this and I won't let the same happen to my friends, then ya can call me a pirate." Sheamus turned toward him, an intense stare in his eyes. He looked at Ed and said, "And yer welcome, by the way."

"...thanks, Sheamus. Listen, I can't do anything here. The World Nobles are a big deal, and if I stay here, I'm risking my life and the crew's! I can't even believe you did that actually…" Ed shook his head in disbelief. "Do you really not know who they are? They basically control the world."

"They don't control my world, Ed." Sheamus said, grinning at his friend.

* * *

Two men stood guard at the giant door to the castle, swords at their sides and bottles in their hands.

"Hey Ricky, you see that?"

"Nah, Tim, what?"

"Some kinda guy coming our way! And he's got people with him!"

"I think you're too drunk, Tim. It's probably more beggars."

Stephen walked up to the two men, surveying whether or not he would have any trouble if he had to deal with them. But judging from their drunken state, Stephen thought not. The people behind Stephen paced around, snarling. There were at least twenty behind him, waiting for his first actions to decide how they handle these two guards. They were growing impatient and hungry. They eyed the two guards, looking over their equipment. While the people had become more violent and acted like animals, they still could see the material values of the items, still knew they could trade with any villages remaining on the island. That is, if Stryker hadn't ruined those villages as well. They were a strange mixture of savage and civilized, ready to switch between the two at any moment.

"So are either of you two useful? Because none of them can speak anymore, and I'd like some info!" Stephen pointed at the starving group behind him who continued to pace anxiously.

"J-jesus, Ricky, look at 'em!" Tim gripped his sword, nervously, looking at the crowd of at least twenty savages, all of them snarling and foaming at the mouth.

"I see it, Tim...well, before you think about sicking your pets on us, Mr…

"Stephen."

"Mr. Stephen, may I ask what you want to know? Or why you're here?" the guard asked, his eyes moving from Stephen to the crowd and then back to Stephen. He gulped when he saw the blood covering Stephen's suit.

"What is this place?" Stephen gestured to the castle, not taking his eyes off the men, who in turn, didn't take their hands off their swords.

"You're looking at the magnificent home of the beloved leader, Mr. Stryker!" Ricky exclaimed.

In unison, the group of people behind Stephen started shrieking and beating their hands off their chests and the ground! They snarled and spit, and became even more aggressive than they already were. But still, they followed Stephen's lead.

"He doesn't seem so beloved to me," Stephen said with a smirk, though he was a little annoyed that the savages had become so loud so quickly.

The guards grip on their swords became just a little tighter, anticipating things to go south very quickly. Sweat slid down their foreheads, their shaking betraying how truly nervous they were.

"Alright, alright, good show, Mr. Stephen!" A voice announced itself, coming from an intercom Den Den Mushi next to the door, "You've done a swell job showcasing your might and all that bullshit. Now, quit conversing with the rabble. Ricky, Tim, open up the doors for my guest. I'd like to have a conversation with him. Oh, and don't worry, he can bring his friends."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Stryker!" the guards said quickly, relieved that they wouldn't have to deal with the group for much longer. They both pulled a switch that activated the large doors, opening them to the inside.

Stephen nodded, pleased with the current developments. But still, he realized he needed to keep an eye out. The whole island had turned out to be very unusual, and he was certain that the owner of the castle had something to do with it. He walked forward, entering with his followers behind him. At least they had a certain loyalty to him, though Stephen could tell some were sizing him up still, waiting for a chance to attack and prove themselves instead as the new pack leader.

The doors closed behind the group, a loud bang resulting from the doors meeting. A butler walked up to the group, looking down at them past his nose.

"Hello, sirs, my name is Gerard, I'm to escort you to our finest rooms in the castle," he looked between a blood covered Stephen and the group of savages behind him and scoffed. "Which I'm sure I will also be cleaning."

The group eyed the stuffy, dressed-up man suspiciously. Stephen took note of how little they trusted Stryker and his people. Regardless, the savages followed Gerard to a hallway lined with doors; it had been so long since any of them had seen such luxuries that the castle had.

In one word, the castle was bright. Everything had a certain kind of gleam to it, everything shined so much, one would think it was gold. All the rooms were refurbished, a far cry from the town Stephen had seen when he arrived on the island. Lights shone from every wall, there was no chance for even a single shadow. The walls were covered in a wallpaper like a drab hotel, red, yellow, and orange flowers adorning it, and the floors were carpeted with the same pattern.

"Stryker is obsessed," Stephen thought, his eyes stinging a little just from the brightness. The butler stopped at a room, and let a savage in, who marveled at all the niceties the room held. It had been so long since they had time to be leisurely and comfortable. Slowly, when each savage had a room, they started to relax and forget their distrust of Stryker.

When it was just Gerard and Stephen, the two men stopped at the end of the hallway. Gerard leaned forward and told Stephen, "You will actually not be going to your room just yet, sir," he said the "sir" conceitedly, considering Stephen lower than even a butler.

"I'm sure Stryker wants me then?" Stephen asked tensely. If someone was going to make a move, it would be occurring very quickly, Stephen imagined.

"Correct, sir, right through these doors," Gerard answered, leading Stephen through an intricately-patterned set of doors, the same colored flowers carved into them.

Stephen shielded his eyes as light flashed at him, almost as bright as looking straight at the sun. "Damn, you think it's bright enough?" Stephen asked sarcastically.

"I don't actually, young man!" a voice said from behind a chair in the room, the same voice that had rung out from the intercom snail. The chair swiveled around to reveal Stryker, who smiled at Stephen. And much like the rest of his possessions , his teeth seemed to shine unnaturally. He jumped from his chair, and Stephen's eyebrow raised up to the top of his forehead.

Stryker barely reached to Stephen's waist, he was so short. And yet, his head was huge! Bigger than average! Stryker walked over to Stephen and outstretched his hand. Stephen took it hesitantly, looking down at the smaller man.

"You see, Stevie, I like things bright." Stephen scowled at the nickname Stryker had given. "I like things incredibly bright!" Stryker laughed, reaching up as high as he could to slap Stephen on the back.

"I could tell," Stephen muttered, looking around at the extravagant office. Adorning the wall were, of course, more lights. But, Stephen noted, he could also see Stryker was an avid hunter, it seemed. Many animal heads were hung upon his walls, most of them exotic that Stephen didn't know the names of. A large window faced toward the villages of the island. Stryker led Stephen to a small chair in front of his enormous desk.

"Compensating for something, Stryker?" Stephen thought, looking at the tiny men leap into his chair.

"Stevie, let me level with you! You seem like a smart kid, a real smart kid. You know, I saw you, what you did down there to those beasts," Stryker told him. Stephen's confused implied the question, "How?" to the bright-teethed boss in front of him.

Stryker ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, "My boy, I have cameras everywhere, I see everything this island has to offer! And you are impressive. How you handled those four, how you took charge over those bunch of savages! And that very amazing power of yours...is it a Devil Fruit, may I ask?"

Stephen straight ahead at Stryker, choosing to not answer. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Stryker to get to the point.

"I'm going to assume yes, then. I'm fascinated with the stuff so I had to ask. Should answer your superiors, boy."

"No one is my superior."

"I like that attitude, boy, we're gonna get along great!" Stryker laughed, smacking his hand off the desk, "Your father must have been a real sonuvabitch for you to be like this!"

"I don't have a father," Stephen said, coldly. He impatiently gestured to Stryker to move on with the conversation. Stephen just wanted info on the island and where he could find supplies for his journey.

"Oh, no daddy? No worries, they all go away at some point or another. I had to kill mine!" Stryker laughed, "Oh, yes, he was trying to cruise in on my business, skim off my profits. So I took some stockings I was gonna give to my dearest mother, and wrapped him around his throat until he stopped squirming!" Stryker looked to Stephen to see if he was perturbed and was pleased to see no effect.

"Nothing phases you, does it, Stephen?" Stryker asked, leaning forward. Stephen shrugged, still looking for the point of Stryker asking to see him. "That's good, very good, in fact. I like guys like you, real punks with no dads to teach 'em right from wrong. Punks and thugs grease the wheels that make the world spin, I say!"

"So you want me to be your thug?" Stephen asked, finally finding out the purpose of Stryker asking for him.

"Well, yes and no, my friend," Stryker conceded, "You'd be an associate of mine! Far more of a higher position than the guards you saw down there, of course, as your skill level deserves."

"But essentially, hired muscle."

"...Essentially. I don't think you're looking at this in a safe way, Stephen. This is a good job. Here, I want to show you something." Stryker pressed a button on his desk.

Metal panels came down from the ceiling, covering the huge window. They metal panels had tiny dots of light on a grid pattern which proceeded to shoot out holographic videos of the townsfolk in various villages on the island. Of course, Stryker's brightness set was all the way up.

"I told you I have eyes everywhere," Stryker chuckled.

"This is all very advanced!" Stephen marveled. He fought the urge to reach out and touch the people in front of him.

"Yes, it is! Friends in high places, Stevie, friends in high places," Stryker told him, "Now, I want you to look at this very closely."

Stryker gestured with his arms and the holographic projections moved, revealing different people and angles. Stephen stared now at images of the savages that had arrived with him. He squeezed at the arms of the chair. He could see where this was going.

"It was very nice of you to bring them to me, Stevie. They could have been real problems otherwise." Stryker murmured to him, looking straight at the young teen.

"I was actually going to ask what you did to them to make them like that," Stephen told him, staring straight back.

"Oh, that? Well, I told you I had a fascination with Devil Fruit. These...people I suppose you could call them, were my last set of guinea pigs, trying to make my own."

"Your own?" Stephen asked incredulously, eyes wide, "That's insane!"

"But I'm so close, Stephen! I've got some fruit, let me tell you, this fruit gives the eater super strength and speed. It's just at a cost of some aesthetics and a bit of lifespan!" Stryker shouted excitedly.

"Your Devil Fruit doesn't sound worth it," Stephen told him, causing Stryker's eyes to twitch.

"No, not yet, I suppose. But I'm close. I dumped a new set of chemicals into their water," Stryker nodded to the holographic projections, "Yeah, sure they're a little fucked up in the head, and they can't talk all that well anymore, but at least they don't look like goddamn monsters anymore!"

"So that's why they're like that?"

"Oh yeah. Of course, it didn't go down well on the kids, if you noticed…" Stryker said, a slight grin pulling at his lips. Stephen grimaced as he thought back to how he didn't see one kid in the group.

"Knew I could get to you," Styker thought. He stepped away from his desk to stand next to Stephen and said, "It'll be tough to deal with at first, but you'll manage. Now watch this." Stryker pressed another button and said, "Alright boys, have at them!"

Two soldiers burst into each room the holographs were projecting, catching the savages by surprise. The formerly civilized townspeople tried to fight back, but were quickly outnumbered and cut down, one-by-one.

Stryker laughed, "Sorry Stevie, but we can't keep your pets. Too much leverage on me, you know? Happy you helped me tie up loose end."

Stephen stared at Stryker, not betraying the emotions he was keeping inside. "That's quite the inconvenience for me, Stryker."

"An inconvenience?" Stryker started laughing, "I love you, kid, you're like the son I've never wanted! You're a monster!"

Stryker leaned in closer, his breath warming Stephen's face, "C'mon boy, you want to be my associate, I can just tell."

Stephen stood up. Stryker stook his hand out, ready for a handshake to confirm the deal.

"Fuck you." Stephen said, simply.

Stryker faltered, then said through gritted, bright teeth, "What was that, boy?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Boy, the time for jokes and attitude is over. I think you need to realize the predicament you're in here."

"The last thing I will ever be," Stephen told him, "is some two-bit thug, especially for a guy like you. You're looking at the strongest man in the world right now, do you understand that? Do you understand the predicament you're in?"

"You little shit, you've just killed yourself, you know that?" Stryker said angrily, his face starting to become red.

Stephen reached over and grabbed Stryker by his suit. He lifted Stryker up high, with the smaller man struggling, and tossed him over the desk. Stryker collided with his chair and smashed into some of the holographic lights, disrupting the images. He screamed in rage as he stood back up and slammed his hand on his intercom button.

"I've got an intruder in my office, deal with him, boys!" Stryker exclaimed into the mic, staring with towards Stephen.

Stephen formed a sword in his right hand, and a pistol in his left. He looked towards the door, preparing himself to deal with the incoming battalion.

Two soldiers burst in through the doors, swords in hand. Stephen quickly shot one in the chest twice, before stepping back to avoid, the other one's weapon. The guard's sword slammed into Stryker's desk, and Stephen retaliated by chopping his hand off with the sword, before placing the pistol to the man's head and firing, the side of his head painting the bright walls of the room. The blood was illuminated by all the lights around them.

Two more guards ran into the room. Stephen raised his sword to slash at one of them, but he was tackled in the gut, and sent over the desk instead. With the guard on top of him, Stephen switched the sword so his hand was above the blade and speared it downward past his shoulder blades. The guard's blood spurted out, hitting Stephen square in the face.

Stephen pushed the man off, and tried to stand up, but Stryker kicked him in the face, knocking him back down. Stephen tasted the blood pouring down his nose, he couldn't catch a breath. The fourth guard stabbed down with his sword. Stephen quickly scooted away, barely avoiding the attack. He lifted his arm up and shot the guard in the knee. The guard fell down, clutching his knee. Stephen reached over with his leg and kicked him in the nose.

More guards poured into the room as Stephen brought himself up to his feet using the desk. Stephen blocked one sword with his own, but could not avoid one guard slicing a line down his arm, blood staining his suit red. With that injury, the gun in his hand broke apart and dissipated back into his body. Stephen blinked confusedly, realizing part of his memory of the day had become hazy. While he was distracted, a guard kicked him in the gut. He toppled over, unable to catch his breath.

"Leave him alive, I want him alive!" Stephen could hear Stryker scream. Feet rained down on him, constantly searching for spots to give him more pain. Stephen cradled his head in the fetal position, trying to protect himself. Soon, his arms were too tired even for that with more kicks.

The guards picked up the beaten teen, bruises and blood streaming off his face. His suit was torn and ripped with footprints marking it. Stephen didn't have the energy to stand, just hanging off of them. He couldn't speak, he could barely raise his head. But he did stare defiantly at Stryker.

Stryker reached up high and slapped him across the face, blood shooting out of his mouth. "You know, I thought you were a smart kid. Turns out, for once in my life, I was wrong. You're a dumbass, you know that? How old are you? Seventeen, eighteen? Strongest man in the world, he called himself. You hear that, boys? Look at this little shit." The guards started laughing at Stephen, angering him enough that he began to struggle. But it was to no avail, his body not strong enough to break free.

"I'm gonna hurt you, kid. You're gonna be the key to my manufactured Devil Fruit, the final piece of the puzzle. I'll have my scientists on you like flies on shit, constantly finding what makes you tick, what makes you bleed…" Stryker chuckled, "Well, whatever makes you bleed besides a couple of kicks."

Stephen spit a glob of blood down at the shorter man, hitting him straight in the face. Stryker grimaced, letting it slowly slide down, "Boy, you're not helping your case. Take him down to the sub-basement, chain him up. I'll be down to see him, I just need to clean up this goddamned mess."

The guards slowly dragged Stephen out of the room like a carcass. When all of his men left his office, Stryker sat alone surveying the damages and what they may cost. He turned on the cameras, showing an incomplete image of his last village. He ticked off in his head another reason to beat Stephen senseless, he ruined some of his projectors.

"Now...what to do with you?" Stryker asked himself, looking at a holographic image of his literal biggest problem, Sheamus.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you have anything you want to discuss about it, go ahead and leave me a review or hit me with a PM. Make sure to alert me to any typos or such I missed. And thanks for reading.


	3. The Dangerous Actions of Stryker

Shorter than the last chapter, but that's how it goes. Hope people like this, I enjoy writing whenever I get the chance.

* * *

Stephen hung from seastone chains on the wall, his arms lifted high above his head. His arms were burning from being kept up for so long, his body wracked with pain. His suit was in tatters, revealing the bruises stamped across his body from the kicks. The dungeon he was kept in was musty and dank, and next to him in the same position lay a skeleton that had already begun to decay.

"You know, you really made a mistake with Stryker," Tim the guard said, having been put in charge of Stephen while Stryker was busy. He was throwing an apple up and catching it repeatedly, "Honestly, he's a great boss. Money, women, a little bit of power, it's really good."

Stephen raised his head to glare at Tim who chuckled at the teen. He took a large bite out of his apple, the juices spraying down into his dirty beard. "Kid," Tim continued, "You're not so scary when you don't have a bunch of animals behind you. Even less scary when you're all caught up in chains." Tim stood up.

"So I think I'm gonna fill in for Stryker, and take the smirk right off ya face, eh?" Tim spit into Stephen's angry face, apple chunks striking him in the forehead. The spittle from the guard's mouth slowly dripped down in Stephen's eyes. He clenched his eyes in disgust, and in that moment, Tim dropped his apple, and then delivered a swift kick into Stephen's ribs. Stephen tried to shirk away from the pain, the kick stopping him from being able to breathe. He tried to suck in a gasp of air but Tim struck him across the mouth, a left hook cancelling Stephen's efforts.

"How'd that feel, kid? I got a sweet punch, don't I?"

"Yeah, pretty sweet punch" Stephen said lowly, his head craned downward to the floor. A threatening aura around him made Tim hesitate a little before kicking Stephen again, causing the teen to groan in pain. Afterall, how much of a threat can the kid in the chains actually be?

"You ain't getting out of here, kid. So go ahead and stop that train of thought at the station." Tim leaned in, "Stryker's gonna have his way with you, slap you around a little, maybe cut off the delicates, and then he's gonna kill you." He raised Stephen's head by his hair, "Do you hear me, boy?"

"Loud and clear…" Stephen hissed out. "So how about he comes down here now? Let's get it started."

"Eager boy. Don't worry, you'll have me all night."

Tim delivered another punch straight to Stephen's head.

* * *

Sheamus said goodbye to his marine friends, giving Ed a giant bearhug before wishing them well on their way. Ed wished he could give aid to the people of the island but with the World Nobles in the way, he would just have to trust Sheamus which meant trusting a criminal. It went against everything Ed thought he stood for, but Sheamus seemed like a good man.

Sheamus walked around the town, the people marveling at his giant size. His eyes shifted from one poor person to the next, each looking desperate for one thing or another.

"Sir...Sir!" An old woman called up to Sheamus, shuffling her way toward him. "Please, do you have any money, any food?"

The crowd started to circle around him, shouting for mercy and food! Sheamus tried to tell them that he had no food to give them, that he was sorry for their plight. But his voice was drowned out by the rambunctious group.

"Alright! Alright, that's enough everyone!" A voice called out, commanding the group to quiet down. An elderly man brushed past them all, his walking stick slowly tapping along the ground.

The old man looked Sheamus up and down, "You're certainly a big one, aren't you?"

"Aye, old man, it's nice to see ya eyes still work."

The old man chuckled, "My name's Kurtis. Kurt for short. How are you, my friend? I'm sorry for the welcoming, times have been tough." Kurt glared around, "C'mon, back to work everyone!"

"It's alright," Sheamus smiled, "I can see that ya havin' a rough go of it. What happened here?"

"Walk with me, young man, I'll explain in my home." Kurt motioned for the giant to follow along with him to a rickety, old home. Kurt slowly pushed open the door, allowing Sheamus to enter first. Sheamus had to duck his head to go in, the ten-foot man a sight to see in the small living room he found himself in.

Kurt laughed, "Oh, my friend, you've been needed for a laugh for a while." He sank down into a rocking chair, slowly going back and forth. Sheamus chose to stand, deciding he'd rather not test some of the old furniture in the house.

"My name is Sheamus," the tall man told Kurt. Kurt slowly nodded as if the information would have to digest within him. "What is goin' on with ya town?"

"Terrible things, Sheamus. And it's my fault…" Kurt sighed. His features were tired, his eyes wet. He seemed incredibly stressed out to Sheamus.

"How?"

"Because he's a bastard!" Sheamus looked to the door where the voice came from, a teenage girl standing beneath the archway. She looked defiant as well as dirty, covered in days-old grime. Kurt accepted her insult without fighting back, too tired to continue fighting.

"And a murderer!" she screamed, walking towards Kurt aggressively. Sheamus stepped over to stand in her way, making himself into an intimidating figure.

"Hold on, little lass, he's just an old man. He can't 'ave murdered anybody…" Sheamus guarded Kurt, the only person on the island to show him kindness at that point.

"He's the reason Sean is dead! My brother is dead because of you!" the young woman stepped past Sheamus to face the old man.

"Abigail…" Kurt said sadly, his face downcast.

"Lass, you're goin' too far. I'm gonna ask ya nicely to leave now, I ain't gonna stand here and let ya beat down Kurt." Sheamus placed his hand on her shoulder, his hand big enough to grip almost the entirety of her arm.

Abigail jerked herself away from Sheamus's grasp, "I'm just here to pick up the rest of my stuff, this'll be the last time Kurt ever sees me."

Kurt motioned to a crinkled cardboard box which Abigail picked up and ran out of the house with. Sheamus slowly closed the door, the tenseness remaining in the air.

"I don't blame her for her reaction…" Kurt said, his eyes focusing on the ground.

"What was she on about, old man? Who could you have killed? No offense, but ya not the strongest looking type." Sheamus said skeptically, raising an eyebrow at the guilty admittance from Kurt.

Kurt looked up, but not at Sheamus. Instead, his eyes looked past him at the door where Abigail had run out. There was a dazed look about him, and Sheamus could almost feel a chill in the air that raised the big man's red hairs on his arm.

Kurt said, in a low, melancholic voice, "My son, I killed my son."

* * *

Stryker surveyed the holographic image in front of him, watching as the young girl, Abigail, sprinted out of Kurt's house. Stryker chuckled to himself, in spite of the danger he saw in the giant man that had arrived on his island. A dumb teenager like Stephen, Stryker could handle, even if Stephen's abilities had potential to aid him in his work, but this gigantic man looked like he could more than handle a group of guards. But even with that in mind, Stryker still found humor in the situation Kurt had placed himself.

"I wonder how Stevie is doing. I do hope Tim is treating him well," Stryker murmured to himself, a bright, shiny grin stretching across his face. He reached over and tapped onto a red button labeled "Dungeon IC".

"Tim? Tim, it's Stryker, how are you faring down there? You showing our visitor a nice time?" the short man asked, still studying Kurt's house to see if the big man had left yet.

"Hello Mr. Stryker. Yeah, I think he's really going to enjoy his time here." Tim's voice came through the intercom, a jovial tone attached to the words he was saying. Stryker smiled even more, enjoying the brat getting a little comeuppance for his behavior. "How dare he throw me like some kind of child!" Stryker thought, "The sheer imputence is grounds for execution."

But Stryker had other ideas for Stephen. A little torture can go a long way, and when Stryker was through with Stephen, the boy would be begging Stryker to let him work underneath his feet. And in that moment, when the boy would be at his most vulnerable, Stryker would tell him to fuck off, and stamp his brains out into the dirt.

Stryker leaned into the intercom microphone and told Tim, "Tim, my loyal guard, you've done so well in these straining situations. I want to promote you!" Stryker found Tim to be a dull and stupid man, but he was useful in ways. Giving him a false promotion would keep him loyal.

And it seemed to work as Tim excited accepted, his voice ringing out of the intercom, "Thank you, sir, thank you! What should I do?"

"There seems to be a new arrival at Village Number Ten. I want you a battalion of our finest men to go down there and give him a warm welcoming. As in, kill him. It seems that dastardly man, Kurt, is talking to him, so I imagine he won't be jumping to join our side." Stryker ordered.

"Yessir! And what about the kid?"

"Leave Stevie to me, I'm coming down right now to have a chat."

* * *

Sheamus stared at the old man in shock, his hand now lightly gripping his axe. Sheamus found what Kurt was saying hard to believe, but if it was true, he wanted to be prepared for anything.

"No, my friend, it wasn't with these old hands. If these hands could still fight as well as they used to, this whole situation could have been resolved. I caused my son's death through my incompetence as a leader." Kurt said, sadly.

Sheamus's hand relaxed, before reaching out to grip the old man's shoulder in support. Obviously, whatever had happened had struck the old man with insecurity and shame. But Sheamus was smarter than he seemed, and could connect the dots between his new friend's child dying and the bitter place the island had become.

"What happened here, old man? This island's got a negative feel, what caused all of it?" Sheamus asked lightly, leaving the old man room to decide whether or not he would tell.

Kurt sighed, but there seemed to be some kind of resolve in his eyes now. Kurt felt his heart wrench as he began to relive the memories held inside of his head. "Stryker, he controls this island now. I...I thought it would help the island. He promised more prosperity, that he help our people."

"Hold on, Kurt," Sheamus interrupted, "Stryker? Who's Stryker?"

Kurt looked at Sheamus apologetically, "I'm sorry, my friend. Let me start from the beginning."

* * *

I have trouble with pacing, hopefully that improves as I continue writing this. Just trying to set up Stephen and Sheamus right now, show their personalities and shit. Hopefully you liked it, feel free to tell me your thoughts in a PM or review. And if there are any grammar mistakes or if I forgot a word, tell me that too.


	4. The Promise of Death

"This could have been easily avoided, you know that, right?" Stryker said down to the teen beneath him. Stephen's head hung low, every breath he took a labor in of itself. Stryker delivered a kick, one of several since he had come down into the chamber. Stephen groaned, he felt like his ribs were cracked in several different places. As defiant as he attempted to be, Stryker's continued beating of him had taken its toll. Stephen could no longer muster up the energy to talk, let alone make wisecracks at the small man.

"This will be the rest of your life." Stryker smiled, his teeth shining bright in the dark room. The perfectly white teeth lined his mouth, so pristine they seemed unnatural. Stephen remained silent, the young man hoping that an opportunity to escape or fight back would present itself. The shackles around his wrists prevented him from using his powers, and without his powers or the ability to move, Stephen felt helpless.

Stryker looked down and smirked at what he thought was a pitiful sight. He walked away from Stephen, his hands behind his back as he thought to himself, "Pride comes before the fall."

"But not for me, boy," Stryker said aloud, turning back to Stephen. "I'm quite proud of the part I've played in this world, but I don't think there will be any fall here. I'm invincible. Let me shoot you a question, Stevie."

Stryker walked over and gripped the boy's hair tightly. He pulled it up, their eyes meeting. Stryker's eyes almost bored with the torturing. Stephen's were glazed over.

Stryker asked Stephen, "Did you feel invincible? Did you feel like the world couldn't touch you?" Stephen didn't answer, partly because he lacked the energy and partly as an act of defiance. Stryker let go of his grip, before slapping his captive across the face.

"I'd tell you to remember this, but I'll kill you soon. How should I kill you? Maybe I'll start with your hands, I'll stomp them into a pulp." Stryker pressed thumbs against Stephen's eyes. "Or maybe I'll take your eyes, and I'll let you rot down here in pure darkness, boy!"

Stryker relieved the pressure from Stephen's eyes. He stared contemptuously at him. What did he know of the world? So young, he couldn't be older than twenty. Stryker enjoyed knowing that.

"Mr. Stryker?" a voice rang from the intercom.

"Yes, what is it?" Stryker asked angrily, preferring to not be interrupted during one of the more fun activities in his life. He cracked his knuckles, preparing to deliver another punch.

"A marine has arrived, and he wants to speak to you, sir!"

Stryker stopped mid-punch. A marine right now? There was no scheduled meetings between him and the marines today. Why this unexpected visit?

"Stevie, I have to cut this short for now. I have adult business to take care of. But don't you worry, my friend. Because when I come back, I will fucking cut you until your daddy wouldn't be able to recognize you even if he did come back."

Stryker walked away towards the door, leaving his threat hanging in the air. His hand stopped on the knob when Stephen spoke up.

"Stryker…" Stephen pulled his head up to stare into the shorter man's eyes from across the room, "I will kill you. I promise."

Stryker laughed loudly, and exited the room, leaving Stephen in pitch black.

* * *

"I gave Stryker control over the island," Kurtis told Sheamus, "He promised to bring the island prosperity. I was the leader, it came down to me to make the decision."

"Aye," Sheamus said, "Makes sense so far. But your son?"

Kurtis sighed. His eyes reflected the deep sadness he held over the consequences of his actions.

"The island was prosperous at first, yes. Stryker fulfilled his promise at first. But what we had not realized that Stryker was using us as guinea pigs, as rats for his experiments!" Kurtis said, his fist shaking as he slammed it onto the chair's armrests.

"Guinea pigs?" Sheamus asked curiously.

"One of his soldiers was found dumping chemicals into our water. Stryker denied everything at first. And he killed the man we found. But villages across the island told me what was happening. Violence. Barbarism. Savagery. Each village felt the effects of Stryker's poison, one by one. And we waited for us to fall too." Kurtis explained.

"Yet you're still here."

"Yes, barely. We are starving, we are dehydrated. Our friends have all become monsters. What are we surviving for? The others just died quicker than we did. Stryker takes our food from us, leaving us too little. My son wanted to put an end to it."

"Aye, I can understand why," Sheamus murmured, the quietness in contrast to his more boisterous self.

"Do you know what happened to him?" Kurtis asked, obviously rhetorically. "He led a rebellion with many of our village's men taking up with him. They attacked that large castle Stryker has holed himself in. They went off to fight well-trained soldiers with shovels and pitchforks."

Sheamus remained silent, allowing the old man to finish.

"They were slaughtered. Good men, all of them. But they weren't soldiers. I didn't go with them. I was too scared." Kurtis looked up at Sheamus, "I was our leader, but I was too much of a coward. And my son paid for my sins.

"Stryker and his men rode into the village with my son on a horse. He had a bag over his head, but I knew it was him. I recognized his voice. He kept screaming, asking

them or a god or whoever to let him die." A tear fell down Kurtis's face. "They brought him to her, to Abigail. And to me. My Sean. He wouldn't stop screaming. He couldn't stop."

"Ya don't have to continue Kurt," the big man told him, placing his humongous hand on the old man's shoulders.

Kurtis ignored him, "Sean was so handsome. Girls loved him. My son. They took off the bag. And my son, my son's beautiful face was gone. They had...they skinned him."

"Stryker made an example out of him. Said that 'this is what happens'. If we didn't want the rest of our people to end up like Sean, we would comply to his orders. And then one of his men took out their sword and...split my son's head in half. And then Abigail was the one who couldn't stop screaming." Kurtis's face had turned completely pale, as if all the blood had exited from his body. It seemed as if he was reliving every detail over again. His eyes, though no longer crying, seemed completely void of life.

Sheamus stared at the old man, speechless. He felt like almost nothing he'd say could help his new friend.

"I'll kill him."

Kurtis looked up to the incredibly tall man before him and asked, "What?"

"Stryker. I can kill him for you. I don't know if it'll help ya village, but I can at least take the cunt out of this world as a matter of revenge for ya." Sheamus said, seriously.

"Sheamus...he has an army."

"I am a McKinnsley, Kurt. McKinnsleys are armies all by ourselves. I'll chop every single one of them down with my lass, Sheila," Brandishing his large axe, Kurtis could see that the gigantic man was serious in his promise. But Kurtis needed to express his doubts, he didn't want another man dying on his account.

"Sheam-

"All civilians, line up!" a voice rang out from outside the shack, startling Kurtis. Kurtis looked outside his window to see eleven men in armor, standing in formation, with one, Tim, at the head of the group.

"There is a trespasser on Stryker's island. We are here to quickly deal with him. Release him to us now, and you can go backing to working. If you don't however, we will swiftly deal with any harborers!" Tim screamed to all the civilians who had come out and lined up.

Kurtis turned quickly to tell Sheamus to hide, but was surprised to see the humongous had somehow slipped silently past him to go outside. He turned around quickly to see Sheamus confronting the battalion.

"Am I the one ya lookin' for? Because if I am, I'm ready to smash each of ya heads in." Sheamus told them, swinging his axe over his head.

Tim hesitated slightly. Stryker hadn't mentioned that the man they were sent to kill was closer to a building in size than a man. But he steadied himself with the knowledge that eleven trained soldiers could surely take on one man, no matter the size.

"I'm quite sure you are. Unfortunately for you, Stryker doesn't want you here. But you're not allowed to leave either," Tim said threateningly, drawing his sword. The rest of the men followed suit. Sheamus smirked. The villagers slowly withdrew back into their homes, cautiously.

"Then come on then!"

The eleven men began to circle Sheamus, shaking their swords at him, threatening to jump forward and attack.

Sheamus attacked first. With a scream, he cleaved to the right of him with the long reach of his axe, catching one of the soldiers across the helmet. Sheila sunk deep into the man's head, and the soldier's body went limp stuck on the axe.

With one down already, some of the soldiers grimaced, watching one of their comrades immediately fall. One soldier tried to take advantage, thinking that Sheamus's guard had fallen. He slashed downwards with his sword at Sheamus's back, but the big man avoided it, quicker than the soldiers could have expected.

Sheamus released Sheila, still in the other man's head, and grasped his attacker's neck. The man released his sword, both hands grasping at Sheamus's humongous hand. Sheamus, staring straight into the other man's eyes, his vicious anger shining through, threw the soldier into two other men that had begun to charge Sheamus.

Less than a second after, Sheamus retrieved his axe from the dead man's skull before he had fallen. As another soldier came at Sheamus, Sheamus cut downwards with both hands, and split that man in half completely. The blood splashed out onto Sheamus's head, soaking into the hair that hung off the side of his head. Sheamus roared in celebration of his kill. He turned around and dodged another blade before swinging his large axe again with one hand, catching the soldier who just attacked him in the stomach.

The man grasped at the innards that fell out of his body before he fell along with them. Three dead men, three other men trying to stand up. A sword unexpectedly thrusted at Sheamus, to which he narrowly but deftly dodged. Sheamus smashed his handled on the helmet of the man, staggering him, before slicing the man's entire arm off with his axe. The man began screaming out in pain, blood shooting out in large volumes.

Two more men attacked Sheamus at the same time with horizontal cuts, Sheamus fell to the floor to duck their attacks. The two men, unable to stop their momentum, cut into each other halfway through their abdomens.

The three men previously knocked down had finally gotten to their feet as Sheamus backed away quickly from the battle, keeping all his enemies in front of him. Five men with Tim looking less and less confident as the battle commenced. In less than half a minute, Sheamus had contributed to the death of six of Stryker's soldiers, and he had yet even been cut.

"I'm havin' fun, boys!" Sheamus screamed, the blood of his enemies covering him almost completely. "Come on then! Who wants to have a go!"

Sheamus received no answer. He smirked before charging at the five enemies, swing his axe above his head. One man, completely caught offguard, barely managed to bring his sword up to block it. This proved useless however. Sheila snapped through the steel sword completely, burying itself into the man past his shoulder.

Sheamus let go and punched another soldier on the head, denting the helmet and stunning the man. Sheamus then grabbed the man and used him to block another's sword strike. The sword sunk into the human shield's stomach, coming out just before Sheamus's body.

Sheamus pulled the dead body away and threw it, the body taking the sword with it. Three men left, only two swords. Sheamus grabbed at the weaponless man's head, and squeezed. The man began to scream before the helmet completely bent in, crushing the man's head.

The giant man was attacked again, but he stepped backwards to avoid it. Sheamus reached back and grabbed his axe before swinging it forward. It completely severed the man's head from his shoulders.

Finally, Tim and Sheamus stood one by one. Tim had not even attempted to attack during the battle, too scared of the larger man. Tim threw his sword onto the ground.

"Please, mercy!" Tim screamed, going to his knees with his hands in the air.

Sheamus laughed, "Mercy! Were ya going to give me mercy? Did these ten men I've cut to shreds, were they a birthday party for me? It ain't my birthday!"

"Stryker! He wanted me to. Please!"

Sheamus walked up to him, Sheila on his shoulder. "Did ya give these people mercy? Nooo, ya didn't. You and that cunt, Stryker. Ya killed. Ya pillaged. Ya ruined lives. I have no mercy for you, scum."

"Plea-" Tim couldn't get the rest out before his head flew through the air.

* * *

"What a fucking monster!" Stryker exclaimed, watching the battle through his damaged equipment.

"Yes, he is. Worse than I had thought"

Stryker looked over to the marine sitting at the seat in front of his desk. "You've dealt with him, Percy?"

"He stole my ship! And it's Persius! Captain Persius," the marine said crossly.

Stryker didn't like his tone, but he liked what he bet he could get the man to do.

"That's why you're here, isn't it? Bit of revenge?" the short man asked Persius.

"Absolutely!"

Stryker looked at him, "Do you really think you can take on that? That's one badass dude, no doubt about it. I don't even think he needed that axe to kill poor Tim."

Persius hesitated. He had already been overpowered once, and it was obvious that Sheamus wasn't working at full power now.

"Didn't think so. But what if I could offer you something that might even the odds?"

"What is it?" The marine asked.

"My masterpiece. The conclusion of my experiments!"


End file.
